


Who wants to live forever?

by uzies_universe



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Character Death, Demon Crowley (Good Omens), Human Aziraphale (Good Omens), Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:07:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27180166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uzies_universe/pseuds/uzies_universe
Summary: Azira Fell's bookshop is visited by a strange and beautiful man looking for a specific bible. It's the beginning of a strange friendship, maybe more, while the world seems to be about to end.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first work for this fandom. Just note that English isn't my first language and I have no beta. I have most of it finished and will try to post the remaining chapters over the next few days. It's a mash of book, TV and my own imagination and I hope you'll enjoy this.

Chapter 1

The dark voice asking "Mr Fell I presume?" behind his back startled Azira quite badly. He had been doing a spot of reorganizing when the voice came floating through the presumably empty shop. Or had he been too focused to hear the bell above the door? Straightening his old inherited waistcoat he turned around and froze at the sight before him. There stood a man with shoulder length, startlingly red, hair and black clothes accentuating his slim figure. The biggest shock was the dark glasses he wore despite the rainy afternoon outside and they reflected Azira’s startled face perfectly.

"Yes..." he replied carefully.

"Excellent, just the man I was looking for!" the man replied with almost a predatory smile. "My name 's Crowley and 'm looking for a particular book, it's an old bible. I've been told you have the best collection in Europe."

"Well, I do have quite a few but I'm afraid they are not for sale."

"I'm not looking to buy, I just want to check a few sections of Matthew's bible from 1537 if you have it."

"As a matter of fact I do own that one. But I must tell you that it's very fragile and not quite as accurate as modern translations. Furthermore the one I have is a misprint that caused almost all of the books to be destroyed. Nothing serious was misprinted by today’s standards, just a few names, but that were deemed most scandalous at the time. Another part of it's sad story is that a few men lost their lives during the translation as it was deemed heretical at the time."

Crowley smiled at this ranting of facts but seemed pleasant enough. A warm scent of sandalwood, lavender and a hint of woodsmoke hung around him and it matched the scent of dust and old books in the shop well. Azira felt rather comfortable with the stranger, despite his dark glasses and rather flashy appearance, so he led him deeper into the shop after locking the front door. He didn't miss the raised eyebrow at the show of trust. 

In the back room Azira cleared some space on a small table by the couch and pulled out a spare pair of cotton gloves for Crowley, then he went into his vault to collect the requested bible. He was pleased to see that Crowley wore not only the cotton gloves but also a pair of rubber gloves underneath and he had donned a face-mask to protect the fragile book further. Sitting cross-legged on the floor he carefully went through the old bible and took some notes here and there during the next few hours. As he didn't have much else to do Azira noted what parts that were examined. It seemed he was mostly interested in Genesis at first and read that part carefully. Now and then a slight frown would cross his face or a small chuckle would be heard. Azira tried to pretend to read an old, though not first edition, copy of Hamlet but kept getting distracted. The red headed man was actually quite beautiful despite his sharp features and obscuring glasses. Finally Crowley seemed happy with what ever he had been looking for and rose sinuously from the floor. He returned the cotton gloves before carefully removing the rubber ones and the mask. After balling them up he tossed them with great skill into the waste-basket. He took his notes and stuffed them into his satchel bag with a flourish and then seemed to notice the time.

"That was quite helpful and it's getting late, may I offer you dinner?" Crowley asked with a slightly sardonic smirk.

"Oh, no need. It was a pleasure to share this. Regretfully few young people are interested in old books these days." Azira replied politely even if his curiosity was truly peaked.

"'M not that young..."

"Sorry, it's just that I am used to people twice my age to be the only other ones interested and I don't believe you are even my age."

"Don't bet! But come along, you look like you could enjoy the Ritz."

"Goodness! I've never been there, it's way out of my league."

"Then grab your coat and get ready to join a new league. My treat!"

They had the miraculous luck to get a table and Azira was duly impressed by the Ritz. Crowley seemed quite at home there and knew the server by name. The meal was exquisite and true to his word Crowley paid for it all, including the large tip. The conversation was interesting and as the evening progressed the feeling of comfort grew in Azira’s chest until he realized he was beginning to fancy his new acquaintance. It gave him a feeling of guilt that the first time ever he was attracted to anyone it was to a man. By the time Crowley walked him back to the bookshop he felt more relaxed and it was more than the wine that made Azira’s cheeks flush. There were still the matter of propriety so he simply thanked him for a wonderful evening as they parted outside the door. Crowley just smiled and with a wave of his hand he sauntered of down the street towards Mayfair.

Azira hurried upstairs to his small flat to make a soothing cup of tea before getting ready for bed. It had been a most pleasant evening and he would love to do it again. Laying in bed he tried to gather his thoughts about Crowley. What did he really know about him? He was handsome and moved sinuously like he was a dancer, or maybe a serpent in disguise. He had strong opinions about freedom of will and choices. They had also talked about such varied topics as the latest winners of the Nobel price, how to care for houseplants and if snakes were good or evil. He had mentioned living in Mayfair and that he didn't like his menial work very much in passing but noting much more personal. That was actually not very much. Was Crowley his first or last name? How old was he? Where did he get his money from if his unknown work was menial? Was he interested in meeting again? Why did he want to read this particular bible? The discussion about snakes made Azira think about the garden of Eden where the serpent had tempted Eve. As he faded into sleep he thought again about how wonderful the evening had been despite all the questions. It wasn't so very surprising that he would dream about Crowley that night. 

-*-

Azira was standing alone in the bookshop when he heard a slithering sound sneaking around him. He tried to find the source and walked between the stacks until he came to the open area under the oculus. In the middle of the carpet was a huge black serpent coiled around a red apple. As he watched the serpent rose up and twisted into the shape of Crowley holding out the apple in one hand. Azira gladly stepped forward with the intention of taking the apple when Crowley’s other hand rose in a stopping gesture. As he halted the red head removed his dark glasses to reveal yellow snake eyes and with a rustle great black wings rose from his back. Fear shot through Azira and he backed away quickly despite the mournful expression on the handsome face before him. 

-*-

With a cry he awoke in his bed with the feeling that he somehow had made a mistake, but he couldn't remember the dream.

  
  
  


A few weeks passed before he saw Crowley again. By now it was high summer and unusually warm in London. He still wore the same black clothes but he looked a bit more stressed with messier hair and untucked shirt. This time he wanted to look at the Book of Tobit if Azira had it, which he did. It was brought out and after a few hours hard study Crowley suggested they have a dinner at the Ritz again. It was easier for Azira to accept it the second time and he wasn't disappointed. The discussion ranged from Brexit to the Hubble telescope to the origins of tea. As they were feeling quite comfortable together Azira decided to invite Crowley for tea when they had walked back to the shop. The tea in the back room led to wine and more discussion until they tipsily settled on theology. This was a topic Azira knew quite a lot about and by the time the first bottle was empty he had started to tell Crowley about his not so great childhood growing up in a cult. 

Azira’s parents had met in the mid sixties when they both had joined The Heavenly Order. The leader claimed to be the Archangel Gabriel and had ruled his followers with an iron fist. Everything had been controlled and, like in many other cults, no one had dared question anything. The cult owned a remote village in rural Whales that everybody lived in, with their own school and shop, so nothing Gabriel didn't approve of reached them. It wasn't until Azira was nineteen and his father had died that he saw the outside world for the first time. His mother had refused an arranged remarriage and was cast out. Luckily for them her parents were still alive and welcomed them here in the bookshop they owned. Now Azira was the only one left and he spent more time collecting and reading books than selling them as he felt he had so much to learn after all the years in the cult. He had inherited some money too and lived frugally to be able to keep this place.

After finishing his long rambling story he looked at Crowley across the room. They had somehow managed to empty another two bottles of wine and apart from an amused snort when he told about Gabriel’s claim to be an Archangel he had remained quiet.

"I don't mean to be such a downer after this lovely evening but I felt that you should know where I come from." Azira muttered into his almost empty wineglass.

"It's ok, I have a sort of similar background." Crowley confessed. "Actually the company I work for now could probably be referred to as cult-like as well."

"Oh, sounds dreadful. Is that why you research religious texts?"

"Not really, that's just a little side project for me."

Azira thought Crowley looked rather lonely sprawled on the couch across the room so he emptied his glass and got to his feet. Standing up he suddenly felt the whole room begin to sway and just before everything went black he felt thin but strong arms catch him.

-*-

In the darkness he heard a rustling noise and followed it. He seemed to be in a dark forest at night and stumbled awkwardly forwards. Presently he entered a clearing and recognized the orchard in the village he grew up in before him. Closest to him was a crooked old apple tree and when he looked again he saw a giant black serpent coiled around a branch. Slowly the serpent uncoiled and then changed into Crowley holding an apple. As he removed his dark glasses and unfurled his wings Azira remembered his earlier dream and tried to stand still this time but he still flinched back slightly in fear. 

-*-

With a gasp he sat up and promptly fell off the couch in the back room of his shop, effectively blotting out his memories of the strange dream. Confused he looked at the morning sunlight falling through the windows and the old tartan quilt that had been placed over him. How kind of Crowley! The memories of the night before started to clear and he was startled to realize that despite the amount of wine consumed he didn't have a hangover. Actually it was only one empty bottle on the table and he clearly remembered three. Rising from the floor he searched both the shop and the flat above for Crowley or any sign he had been there to no avail. Thankfully he found nothing out of order either, at least until he went to put the kettle on. His favourite mug was placed upside down beside it and a small note was placed on the bottom of it with 'Until next time! //C' scribbled on it. Holding the note the ghosts of his dreams of Crowley fluttered at the edge of his mind only to melt away again as he flicked on the kettle. He whistled a little tune and thought that if nothing else came of this he had a friend at least.

  
  
  


The Geneva bible from 1599 was Crowley's next request when he returned about a week later. It had truly been a strange week with weird rapports coming in from all over the world. With his biblical knowledge Azira felt that it was as if the End times were here and seeing Crowley reading through the Book of Revelations made it feel even more so. As he watched from his chair by his desk he saw how much more dishevelled Crowley were today. He only wore a rumpled and untucked shirt over his tight jeans and his hair was all over the place. He silently calculated the chance for a dinner at the Ritz with that look and didn't think they would be welcome. Then he recalled his own plans for dinner had been a picnic at St James park. His fridge held enough food for both of them. By the time Cowley closed the old bible and had deposited his gloves and mask in the trash Azira presented his suggestion and was rewarded with a bright smile. Together they then filled up an old basket with food, wine, other supplies and the tartan quilt before heading out into the late afternoon sunshine.

They found the perfect spot with just enough shade from some trees and had a really lovely time. Crowley seemed to realize how he looked and smarted up a bit too. By the time most of the food had gone the ducks had spotted them and pestered them until they got the leftover bread. Then they sipped wine and watched the sun set. Just as they were about to pack up Azira detected an awfully foul stench and saw Crowley freeze beside him.

"What 'cha up to Crawly?" a hoarse voice spoke up from the unexpectedly dark shadows under the trees.

"Ah, Hastur, Your Honour!" Crowley replied with a slight bow. "Just finishing up some last minute business before the great day."

"Don't try any funny stuff! 'Till the morrow then..."

Azira couldn't see anyone in the dark shadows but the stench dissipated quickly, as if Hastur had been nothing but a foul odour that somehow had learned to talk. Baffled he looked at Crowley and saw how stressed he looked. Feeling both anxious and a bit puzzled by the small exchange he couldn't think of anything to say until they arrived back at the shop. He invited Crowley in again and after some hesitation he complied. Azira thought he heard him mutter something like 'last chance, better enjoy it' under his breath as they made their way to the back room.

Once they had settled with some more wine conversation started to flow again. This time it was the pros and cons of reusable shopping bags followed by the abomination of Jaffa cakes in other flavours than orange. Soon the uncomfortable encounter in the park was forgotten and they sat together on the couch almost touching. Azira was working up the courage to reach for one of Crowley's slim hands when the wine finally got the best of him and he collapsed inelegantly on his shoulder instead. Before he knew it he was fast asleep and soon plunged into a vivid dream.

-*-

Azira was standing in what looked like a ruined version of St James park. The sky was a dreadful smoky red, the trees were charred stumps and any buildings around him were reduced to piles of rubble. On a small clear patch in front of him a giant black serpent was coiled around a red apple. As the serpent rose to transform into Crowley once again he remembered his previous dreams and kept himself in check as he met the beautiful yellow eyes. This time he reached out and took the offered apple with a smile and took a bite. Crowley's smile was bright as the sun and just before the dream ended Azira could feel the soft touch of the majestic black wings as they closed around them.

-*-

When Azira awoke it was to a knocking at the shop door and it was dark outside. Stumbling stiffly from the couch he glanced quickly through the window and saw Crowley standing outside. His face looked sooty, his hair singed and his clothes were torn. How could all this have happened in the short time since he fell asleep? How long had he slept? Opening the door he let his friend inside.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The End is near and Crowley realizes he's not ready for this. What can one lonely demon do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to split this chapter in two as it was too long. Next chapter will be up later today.

Chapter 2

Crowley was a demon, an honestly God damned demon, and he had a big problem. Well, he had more than one but the one that really counted right now was: How do you stop an Apocalypse? Armageddon itself was due within a few months. Well, it couldn't be done probably but he wanted to try. No, he had to try! As he walked through the streets of London in the early summer Crowley couldn't help a small smile as he observed the happy humans enjoying the sunny day. He had followed them from literally the beginning and they never ceased to amaze him. Their tenacity, ingenuity and persistence was amazing and despite their sometimes atrocious actions he didn't want them to end. When, if, that happened it would all be his fault. He had got them thrown out of the garden, the Garden, at the end of the beginning and he had delivered the beginning of the end quite literally in a handbasket. That was all history now and in a few months so would the Earth and humanity be too. Unless he could think of something. Which would get him into all kinds of problems if anyone in Hell, or Heaven, found out about it. Glancing shyly towards the sky he felt a slight shiver. He may be Fallen and beyond the grace of God but he had once been an angel and he couldn't believe that the Almighty would want all this to end. He could barely recall his old name but he remembered that he had taken part in creating things like the stars and he remembered the love involved. He just never understood why no other demon, or any of the few angels he had met since his Fall for that matter, seemed to do that. Suddenly he felt more lonely than usual and sauntered over to the Ritz. By miracle his favourite table was free and he was soon comfortably sprawled with a glass of champagne and chatting with his favourite waitress Frances about starters.

A few days later Crowley started thinking about a man he had met on an assignment in 1526 called William Tyndale. He had been a scholar and Crowley's job had been to make him write a book that would sow discord among Christians in half of Europe. As he worked the temptation he noticed the man was also making a new translation of the bible. The temptation was only one of many at the time and it wasn't until a few decades later Crowley returned to Britain and learnt that Mr Tyndale had been executed for heresy and his bible translation had caused more discord than the other book. That wasn't the point though, the point was that he had made a very thorough translation and it might include some hints as to preventing the Apocalypse. It had been an eternity plus about 6.000 years since Crowley Fell so he needed to read up on these things but the original texts were long gone. So where to find a copy of an almost 500 years old bible? Using some of his few mortal contacts he was soon pointed in the direction of a Mr Fell who had a bookshop in Soho. He was surprised when he found that the shop was located less than twenty minutes saunter from his own home.

Crowley carefully scanned the area before approaching the shop's door. He couldn't afford being caught with something like this by either side this close to the Apocalypse. As he entered the small shop he could smell several bibles close by and it made him antsy enough to silence the small bell above the door with a glare. Following the sound of books being gently moved about he came to a man moving books around in a bookcase. From his general air of confidence he assumed that it was the owner.

"Mr Fell I presume?" he asked and watched the blonde man jump.

"Yes..." the man replied while straightening a ridiculously old waistcoat. Was it an 18th century original?

"Excellent, just the man I was looking for! My name 's Crowley and 'm looking for a particular book, it's an old bible. I've been told you have the best collection in Europe."

"Well, I do have quite a few but I'm afraid they are not for sale."

"I'm not looking to buy, I just want to check a few sections of Matthew's bible from 1537, if you have it."

"As a matter of fact I do own a copy of that one. But I must tell you that it's very fragile and not quite as accurate as modern translations. Furthermore the one I have is a misprint that caused almost all of the books to be destroyed. Nothing serious was misprinted by today’s standards, just a few names, but that were deemed most scandalous at the time. Another part of it's sad story is that a few men lost their lives during the translation as it was deemed heretical at the time."

After finishing off on his little lecture the blonde turned to lock the front door before leading the way to the back of the shop. What a naive and trusting man! Thankfully he was serious about protecting the fragility of the bible and offered cotton gloves to complete the protective gear Crowley himself had brought. Any old bible was sacred enough to burn him if he had touched it with his bare hands and that would have been awkward to explain. After rereading his own 15 minutes of fame part he turned to looking for mentions of Apocalypse or Armageddon and found little. He also took the time to check Mr Fell out and wasn't that an ironic name? He was a bit portly and probably middle aged. He also had the strangest blue eyes he had ever seen on a human and blondish white hair. His smile was really quite lovely and despite the man’s efforts Crowley could easily see that he was checked out in turn. After a few hours and some mostly pointless scribbles he felt he had enough for now. Nothing stood out and he felt panic starting to rise, he needed a distraction. Turning to Mr Fell he tried to hold his sarcasm back at what he was about to say.

"That was quite helpful and it's getting late, may I offer you dinner?" Crowley asked with a hopefully neutral voice.

"Oh, no need. It was a pleasure to share this. Regretfully few young people are interested in old books these days." Azira replied politely even as he looked curious.

"'M not that young..."

"Sorry, it's just that I am used to people twice my age to be the only other ones interested and I don't believe you are even my age."

"Don't bet! But come along, you look like you could enjoy the Ritz."

"Goodness! I've never been there, it's way out of my league."

"Then grab your coat and get ready to join a new league. My treat!"

As they settled down at his usual table at the Ritz Frances raised her eyebrows ever so slightly. In the five years he had frequented this place he had never had company with him he realized. He was an experienced tempter at heart though and could easily hold a conversation on various topics. There was something about Mr Fell that made him more candid than usual and the evening was far more entertaining than he had expected. When they finally parted ways outside the bookshop he felt that he wanted to meet this man again. They seemed to have formed some kind of connection. 

  
  
  


Bless it all to Heaven and back! Crowley had taken a chance and sneaked in to check up on Warlock, just to see if he could persuade him to not end it all. This close to coming into his full power he should have given off something but he was a total blank when it came to infernal, or ethereal, powers. In short, the boy Hell was certain was the Antichrist was just a normal utterly spoiled human brat. What had happened at that hospital? He had received the child in the handbasket, driven it to the nuns at the hospital and left it with them as per his orders. Thinking back he remembered how he had kept looking at the basket beside him in his car on his way there. He had felt an overwhelming love for both Earth and humanity, and an equally overwhelming sadness for their soon to be demise. He had known he should be happy to get a chance to get back at Heaven for tossing him out but he couldn't help to mourn humanity instead. He wished he could take the child to somewhere else and teach it to love humans enough to not end them. Then he shrugged and reminded himself that he was a demon and shouldn't even be able feel things like this. If Hell knew he had thoughts and feelings like this the punishment would be literally a fate worse than death. He still couldn't hold back a tiny undemonic blessing of good fortune as he handed the basket to the first nun he met. How could the rest have gone so wrong? With only a few weeks left he had to gather his resources. What kind of powers were at his own disposal anyway? He vaguely recalled another man he had known almost 3.000 years ago while working some long term temptations in his area. Hadn't he told him quite a lot? Hadn’t he said he’d write a book about his experience? Crowley had a good memory of things he liked but the pre-Fall times were mostly too painful to recall. He remembered drinking and talking a lot with that guy Tobit at the very least. He needed to find this book if it existed. Perhaps Mr Fell had that one too? Yes he had.

So he had been an Archangel once, that explained why his powers always seemed to have a bit more kick to them. Not that Crowley wanted power in Hell, he preferred the simpler life of a low level demon stationed on Earth. Hell's power struggles were literally hellish and he tried to stay out of them as often as possible. Shuddering at the memory of his last round of punishments he gathered his wits and offered Mr Fell another dinner at the Ritz. 

It went even better than the first one and Frances offered a very small genuine smile to see them back together. Small because a good waitress at the Ritz only offered polite smiles normally. Afterwards he was invited back to the bookshop and accepted gladly. He really liked to spend time with Mr Fell and this close to the end of everything he really didn't have much need to keep up appearances. The conversation and wine flowed quite easily for awhile and he was even asked to call him Azira instead of Mr Fell. Azira explained that he had been named Aziraphale, after some angel apparently, but had later shortened it a bit. Crowley nodded, he remembered that angel. He also had fallen and though he was nothing like Azira now, he had once been quite nice. Azira had chosen to keep the first part as a reminder of his past and it also fit the long established name of the shop. It had been there since 1800 and was opened by his great-great-grandfather Alfredo Zechariah Fell. Then Azira was quiet for a few moments as he turned more introspective and then told the rather dreadful story of his life. To hear a human proclaim to be an Archangel was still pretty funny. It could even have been the real Gabriel for all Crowley knew, he always were a stuck up twat with severe delusions of grandeur. It was also possible that all that was strictly on the humans themselves as some of them had a truly mean streak. He wished he could tell how similar their lives had been! Even if Azira was free now and Crowley most certainly wasn't.

"I don't mean to be such a downer after this lovely evening but I felt that you should know where I come from." Azira muttered into his almost empty wineglass.

"It's ok, I have a sort of similar background." Crowley confessed. "Actually the company I work for now could probably be referred to as cult-like as well."

"Oh, sounds dreadful. Is that why you research religious texts?"

"Not really, that's just a little side project for me."

Crowley watched Azira empty his glass and try to stand up. There was no mistaking the look in his eyes but the wine got to him first and he went down so quickly Crowley barely caught him in time. Lowering him gently on the couch he also pulled an atrocious tartan quilt over him. For a few minutes he watched the sleeping beauty before shaking himself and prepared to leave. Something held him back though and he decided Azira deserved more. Ripping a piece from his notebook he scribbled a quick 'Until next time! //C' and left it where he assumed it would be found quickly. As a last thing he carefully kissed the sleepers forehead and drew out the budding hangover with a small healing miracle. The gentle sigh and smile that followed made Azira look like a true angel. Silently Crowley let himself out, locked the door behind him and returned home to his flat. Standing in front of the mirror in his rarely used bathroom he blushed furiously at the realization that he, a demon, had not only the ability to love left in him but he loved a human angel. 

  
  
  


As the end of the last week of the world got closer Crowley felt as if he was about to break down completely. Weird things happened all over the world and it was clear that the End times were truly here. By late afternoon Hastur had popped by through the TV and ordered him to Meggido the day after tomorrow to meet up with the presumed Antichrist Warlock. Trying to think logically he started at the place he had delivered the Antichrist and worked from there. It took him only a few hours to drive to Tadfield and realize that the hospital had been partially destroyed, probably by Hastur, and no records remained. Back in his flat he hacked into the NHS records and came up with only two children born in the area that night; Warlock and another boy called Adam who was still living in Tadfield. He would have to seek him out before it was too late and he needed to be prepared. Racking his brain for what he knew and sifting through the notes he decided that he had to try another bible version for more information. He recalled that the so called Geneva bible was said to be an even better translation than Matthew's. By now the penultimate day had begun and hoping the shop would be open he returned to Azira to try his luck again.

The new bible gave little new information and Crowley tried to resign himself to his fate. If he was lucky he would be dead by this time tomorrow and nothing more would matter. Accepting a picnic seemed like as good an idea as any to spend his last day alive.

The park was nice, the food and wine was good and the company excellent until he caught Hastur’s distinctive stench.

"What 'cha up to Crawly?" a hoarse voice spoke up from the Hell-enhanced darkness under the trees.

"Ah, Hastur, Your Honour!" Crowley replied with a slight bow. "Just finishing up some last minute business before the great day."

"Don't try any funny stuff! 'Till the morrow then..."

He saw the putrid shape sink back into the ground with a shudder and didn't mind going back to the shop with Azira. He couldn't help muttering 'This will be my last chance, better enjoy it while it lasts' under his breath either as they sat down together on the old couch in the back room. 

Forcing everything unpleasant from his mind Crowley focused on the lovely man beside him. After the first hour he noticed that the feeling was clearly mutual and with every gesture Azira's hand came closer to his own. Just as he thought he might get a proper snog in before the End he instead got an adorably snoring man on his shoulder. He couldn't decide what to do. Should he stay there and enjoy himself until Hastur came to literally rip him apart? Was there anything else left to do? He watched the dawn touch the sky and soon the last day of Earth had begun. Azira sighed happily and nuzzled closer into his shoulder and the point of contact caused a sudden fire to rage through Crowley. His infernal senses tingled wildly and he suddenly knew that Azira had somehow accepted him in his sleep. All of him. Well, he had to try and stop the Apocalypse now! Gently lowering the sleeping man he kissed his forehead like before and transported himself directly into his beloved Bentley outside his flat in Mayfair. 

With a roar the engine came to life and he set his sights for Tadfield. If he could appear human enough he might persuade the true Antichrist to stop the Apocalypse. Or if bad came to worst he could try and kill the kid before it was too late. As if sensing his deviant behaviour a ring of Hellfire burst up around London but Crowley drove right through it and floored the gas. Drawing on every ounce of his powers he drove the burning mess of a car to Tadfield and still had enough power left to localize the Antichrist at a small airfield on the outskirts of town. As soon as he stepped out of his car and stopped focusing it exploded into a heap of half melted burning junk. Staggering onwards he held it together enough to see a group of children facing off none other than the four riders of the Apocalypse in the distance. By the time he reached them the apocalyptic riders had been destroyed, the Apocalypse was averted and no human was killed. One of the children looked sombrely at him.

"Hi Crowley!" the kid said with a friendly smile. "I'm Adam the Antichrist and it's so nice to meet you again."

"Wot?" Crowley replied dumbfounded. He had never met the kid before apart from the short delivery job eleven years ago.

"Well, you delivered me and gave me my first insight into life on Earth."

"But... You were just a baby?"

"Technically no, or maybe yes. Anyway, I liked you and what you thought about humans and the Earth so I chose to go to the other set of parents at the hospital that night. I didn't know exactly what I was supposed to do but it felt right."

Suddenly the ground shook and in a flash of light and a burst of flame two beings materialized before them. The Archangel Gabriel and the Prince of Hell Beelzebub. How the Heavens and literal Hell was he going to talk his way out of this?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened at the airbase and what came after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This could be read as the final chapter, see notes at the end.

Chapter 3

Afterwards Crowley felt a weird sense of disconnection. He knew he had spoken to both Beelzebub and Gabriel, the penultimate authorities of Hell and Heaven and technically well above his rank and powers. He somehow had managed to argue about both Great and Ineffable plans and that and his friends had helped Adam to withstand their cajoling about restarting Armageddon. When Satan himself had started to gouge his way up from Hell in a paralysing burst of anger and hate he despaired but refused to give up. Desperately he had grabbed Adam's hand and stepped with him outside of Time to get a few minutes more to try and coach him in peace. That had worked incredibly well and now he was standing alone on the tarmac and watched the sun begin to set wondering what the Heavens had happened. Adam had renounced his hellish father and then his earthly father had arrived and stowed Adam and the others in his car to drive them home. Adam's last parting words were ringing loudly in his ears: 'You are free from both sides now, I've made certain you are!' With a relived sob he turned around and started running towards the gates of the airbase. His only thought now was to get back to London and Azira one way or another but the sight that greeted him outside the gate stopped him short. The former smouldering pile of junk had restored itself into his beloved car, most likely Adam's doing. With a happy sigh he yanked the door open and headed for the bookshop faster than he had ever driven before.

It was full dark by the time he staggered up to the locked doors and knocked. The last hours, days, weeks and eleven years weighed heavily on him but the bright smile on Azira’s face was cheering like a sunrise. He followed him upstairs to the little flat there and gladly accepted the offer to use the shower and borrow some clothes. He felt too exhausted to both summon up fresh clothing and come up with a plausible explanation. As he emerged clean and dressed he saw Azira put some take away sushi on the small kitchen table with a slight smile. They had discussed food preferences at their first dinner at the Ritz and found that both liked sushi very much. Despite his exhaustion Crowley joined him for a late dinner and tried to think up something to explain what had happened today. Azira on the other hand seemed to be happy just to see him again and kept stealing glances across the table. They only talked about the food until they had finished eating but then Azira started fiddling nervously with his chopsticks. He kept glancing between Crowley and the door to his bedroom as if he tried to decide if he should offer his bed or his couch for his guest and where he himself should sleep. Crowley made the decision for him by taking his hand and kissing it gently. If he was truly free he was going to enjoy his life and accepting his love for this man was the first thing he wanted. Azira lit up like the sun again and pulled him close for a proper kiss. They were both too exhausted for more and soon stumbled into the bedroom and fell into the bed together. Sighing softly Crowley wrapped himself around the warmth of the other man and they both drifted off quickly to sleep.

-*-

Crowley liked to sleep and he sometimes even dreamed, though it was usually nightmares. He didn't feel too disoriented when he suddenly found himself walking across a large field in the evening twilight of a winter day. He was dressed simply in a black silk shirt, his favourite tight black jeans and his signature snakeskin boots but no dark glasses. He wasn't cold because he had his wings out and wrapped around himself. Up ahead he could see a fairly large cottage spreading its cheerful glow on the snow outside. Suddenly Azira was standing right in front of him, all dressed in white and barely visible against the snow. In his left hand he held a bright red apple with a bite taken out of it and his gaze was steady and loving despite Crowley's visible black wings and yellow snake eyes. Recognizing a good metaphor when he saw one Crowley bent towards the apple, steadied the hand holding it with his own left hand and took a bite of it himself. As he straightened up again the apple had turned into a ball of light connecting their hands and they sealed their union with a kiss. Even in his dream he remembered the scent of The Apple and it permeated the scene. He wasn't surprised to see golden rings on their hands when the light faded. 

-*-

Blinking slowly at the morning light streaming in through the windows Crowley awoke sprawled halfway across a broad chest. His left hand was clasped with Azira's and the light glinted off something neither of them had fallen asleep with. A tightening of the clasp told him Azira had also woken up and seen the rings as well. It wasn't until a soft hand touched his chin and lifted it for a kiss he realized he had no glasses on and it was too late to look away. Azira hadn't minded in the dream and it turned out he didn't mind in reality either.

  
  
  


"So, I guess you might have a few questions?" Crowley asked over breakfast some time later.

"Yes I do but can you answer them?" Azira replied cautiously.

"I can't tell you everything but I'll tell you as much as I can. You might already have guessed that 'm not quite human with these eyes..."

"I've had a few dreams since I first met you where I saw you transform from a snake into you."

Crowley smiled softly, placed his teacup on the table and transformed into his snakeform and then back. He was relieved to see Azira wasn't scared.

"You are a beautiful snake! In my dreams you also had wings... Are you an angel?"

"No, 'm a demon."

Azira gasped and then shook his head.

"But you're not evil!?!"

"No, 'm more like a bad demon..."

"Can I see your wings?"

Crowley let all his wings unfurl together for the first time since his Fall and watched Azira carefully. Somehow he was more worried about showing this part of himself than showing his snakeform as this was a sign that he had been more than the regular angel he usually had claimed to have been. He had always had six wings but should have lost four of them when he was cast out as a sign of his disgrace. He had always been careful to hide them from the other demons. Azira stepped forward and then drew back without touching them until Crowley extended one toward him and nodded. Then he touched the tip of the wing gently. Getting bolder he then stroked the soft black feathers more and more until he was practically grooming them. When Crowley groaned in pleasure he was startled but then continued.

"That feels amazing!" Crowley gasped. "No one but me has touched my wings like that since I Fell."

"Fell? Oh! So you are a Fallen angel?"

"Yes, most demons are."

"Please, tell me what you can."

So Crowley began telling of how he had been part of creation, asked a few unwelcome questions and how that made him Fall from Grace. 

"You say She, I have always been taught God is a He?" Azira interrupted.

"She, He, Them, It... It doesn't really matter. You see gender wasn't a thing before humans came along. I'm not really a man unless I choose to be and make an Effort for it though it is my prefered shape. As it was female humans that were supposed to bear children we started to address the Creator as She."

Crowley then continued with how Hell was literally Hell and how much he had both hated and feared that place. He skimmed over most of the more painful details of the Fall business but Azira had enough of imagination to wince. He also kept the gorier details about Hell out, only stating that it was as expected in most parts. 

After pausing for lunch at a nearby Thai restaurant they returned to the shop so Crowley could continue his story about what he himself had done during his six millennia on Earth. He made it clear that he wasn't proud of the more sinister parts, though humanity usually did most of that work for him. He had been too afraid and lonely to disobey his orders from Hell but he had also done a lot of things that could only be described as good whenever he could get away with it. He had originally been a creator and healer and he simply couldn’t resist to help the humans sometimes. He also knew God would continually test the humans and used that as an excuse to help them through some of that. Thwarting the Heavenly plans could be seen as perfectly acceptable deeds by a minion of Hell. Most of the time he had been left to his own devices by Hell anyway and he had spent a lot of his time with humans although he never could get too close to them. He could hide his wings but not his snake eyes so the invention of dark glasses had been a blessing. Finally he told of how much he loved humanity and the Earth and had from the start.

As he continued to tell what he could Crowley was impressed by Aziras reaction to it all. What seemed to surprise him the most was how many of the events in the bible that actually was true. He had gasped when he was told that the Flood and the crucifixion were real events and that so much taken as myths were historical facts and so much taken as historical facts were myths. The idea that someone would claim that they had seen all of this first hand should be laughable but as it was told by a winged man with snake eyes Azira believed it all. It seemed to make him a bit dizzy as well to learn that there actually had been an angel named Aziraphale and that Crowley had known him. It probably didn't help to learn that that angel had joined with Lucifer and Fallen. He now worked mostly with Asmodeus to promote Lust and other things usually frowned upon by those who lived by the bible. Crowley assured Azira that quite a lot of the things fundamentalist saw as unforgivable sins were actually not. It took a lot more to get condemned to Hell than for example being gay.

It took longer than he had expected for Azira to ask him if his name as an angel was known to humanity and if he was mentioned in the bible. He just smiled and winked a sparkling snake eye before summoning up an apple from thin air.

  
  
  


Six months later Crowley stood in a snowy field dressed in just about everything warm he could think of. The lights of their cottage shone on the snow in the twilight and beside him was Azira wrapped in a white coat. They had left London together and moved into this cottage on the outskirts of a small village in the South Downs. Crowley now had a garden of his own to complement his previous small collection of houseplants and Azira had the large library he had always wanted. He had also gladly sold his old bookshop and opened a new one in the village with the old name. They had already made plans to open a small café there next summer and spent a lot of their free time baking to find the perfect pastries for it. The village was small and off the usual tourist tracks but they had been heartily welcomed by the locals when they presented their plans and had made a lot of friends. This was everything Crowley didn't know he could dream of and it was theirs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is a bit sad and can be skipped as it only deals with the downside of relationships between a demon and a mortal.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of their life is here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, this chapter is why the suicide warning is there and also contains the character death.

Chapter 4

Crowley watched Azira shift slightly in the hospital bed as if he tried to catch his eye. The laboured sound of his breathing was masked by the machines he was connected to. They had talked a lot about this day over the years they had shared. Even if Crowley would look like he aged to others it would just be an illusion for him, not for Azira. One day death would do them apart and where Azira's soul went afterwards he wouldn't be able to follow. He reached out and held the frail hand as it rested on the cover and tried to keep his smile steady. They had both hoped this day was still far into the future but there was a limit to how much miraculous healing could be done to a mortal body. They had moved around a few times to conceal this to others and now, after over two hundred years together, it would soon come to an end. Even with skin contact Crowley could barely reach Azira's mind any more. His mind was still as brilliant as ever, he was just so tired that no amount of rest could refresh him now. 

With a final shudder the mortal body that had held him with unconditional love for 239 years came to its final rest and Crowley bowed his head in grief. In the space between life and death the demon and the soul of Azira embraced a final time before Death came.

"BROTHER, IT IS TIME FOR YOU TO PART" Death spoke solemnly.

"Yes, I know. Thank you for still calling me brother Azrael, and please take good care of my love!" Crowley replied as he passed the soul over.

"I ALWAYS CARE FOR THE DEPARTED."

Crowley shook himself free from his vision and stepped aside as nurses and doctors rushed in at the sound of alarms. It was nothing they could do and he preferred not to see this. 

Walking back to the flat they had shared for the last forty years he felt empty and drained. He knew he should go on from this and that Azira had told him frequently that he should and find someone new to take care of him. It just didn't feel right. He thought about Adam and how he had chosen the mortal way rather than to live on without his old friends. He had still lived a long life and passed away a few weeks after turning 110. Technically this meant that a new Antichrist could be conceived at any time and the whole Apocalypse business could start again, it just didn't matter the same way it used to. Sitting alone in the flat Crowley mourned and sorted through his thoughts and options as minutes turned to hours and then days. While he took his time for mourning preparations had been made for the funeral and without his participation it was to be held in a church, contrary to Azira's requests. When he finally left the flat it was to go to the church where the service was held. They had made lots of friends during their time in this town and the church was full of them. Even standing well outside Crowley could still feel the slight burning in his feet from the closeness to consecrated ground. Looking up at the summer sky he thought of his long life and how tired he had been of his loneliness before he had come to know Azira and how much lonelier he felt now.

"Thank you for these years, Mother." he whispered softly to the silent sky.

As soon as the service came to an end and the church had emptied of all save the staff he made his move. Stepping quickly he walked into the church and up to the open casket by the altar. The sweet scent of summer blossoms was already drenched in the horrible scent of roasting demon but he persevered to be able to take one last look at his love. Azira's body had been carefully prepared by the funeral director and looked like he was just asleep. After a soft kiss to the cold lips Crowley turned to the baptismal font next to the altar. By now the soles of his feet had almost burnt away completely and the pain was almost as excruciating as loosing Azira. With a final look towards the casket Crowley gripped the sides of the font and pushed his head face first into the Holy water. 

Everything went black.

  
  


"WELCOME, BROTHER." a voice echoed in the darkness.

"Azrael? Brother? What are you doing here? How can I still be here? I shouldn't exist any more?" Crowley asked bewildered.

"I AM HERE BECAUSE YOU ARE HERE. WE ARE HERE BECAUSE THIS IS WHERE WE SHOULD BE. NOW FOLLOW ME."

They walked silently for an undetermined time and then the darkness suddenly broke open like torn cloth and Crowley saw a familiar sunlit gate before him. Looking back he saw Azrael's perpetual smile as the darkness disappeared, then he was standing alone outside that first cottage he had shared with Azira so many years ago. Passing through the creaking gate he heard the front door open and a familiar blonde head peaked out. With a mutual shout of joy they raced to each other and embraced in the sunlight and they both knew that they had finally come home for good.

The end


End file.
